Disclosures
by double scotch.single malt
Summary: Tom Chandler POV one shot following the final scenes of "Minefield", Season 3, Episode 5 where he encounters an unexpected interlude of grief and uncertainty with regards to his losses and regains his footing via the camaraderie of a trustworthy shipmate.


**Disclaimer: I don't own The Last Ship, et al.**

 **Disclosures**

The p-way felt narrow and encroached upon Tom as he walked with purpose from Mike's quarters to the wardroom for another debrief – _his mind deluge with a conflicting array of thoughts_ – the survival of his people, his _family_ (Slattery, Garnett, Jeter, Rios, Miller and young Diaz), Takeyaha and his cunning (and what might be left of his arsenal), Wolf and Cruz's recovery … and Sasha Cooper and her unexpected kiss: _indelible and meaningful, even now, after a lifetime apart_. Surely an introspection for another time in the near future. Though that window into her mindset was a gorgeous panorama he might have a hard time forgetting again – _for their history predicated as much_ – and he knew from experience, that it was quite a view.

 _He turned the corner and the current changed – the cool air slamming against his face now – the pushback, symbolic of the uphill battle of this mission since its inception._

Val popped into his head, taking him by surprise and invariably, Wolf came next. Wolf Taylor, a damn fine man and even finer brother and shipmate. Giving more than one-hundred percent of himself to every mission and aspect of his life – _he indeed lived to the fullest_ – his new and intense relationship with Val, a testament to that principle. He thought of them together now, a passionate couple – _their connection born purely out of fate, circumstances and high emotions_ – that led to so much more: _a foundation worth standing upon_.

 _Pausing, he considered that idea now – the one about fate and circumstances and high emotions – and quietly ruminated, once again acknowledging – how precarious life was ... and that hedging ... waiting ... for the 'right' time when it came to matters of the heart, seemed an archaic way to live in this post-apocalyptic world. Sadness claimed him. He thought of Rachel. And then of Darien. Lost loves he carried with him … everywhere now._

He walked on and nodded in response to the salute of several ensigns as he passed them by and absentmindedly thought to cut through the lab to get to the wardroom. Heading that way now, he pressed on and forward, redirecting his thoughts to Takehaya and his island fortress ... until he set his hand upon the door handle to the lab and faltered.

 _For within those finite couple of seconds, his world indeed became unbalanced and his blood ran cold and his heart raced and his fingers recoiled from the handle. He swallowed hard and a sheen of perspiration covered him akin to a sopping wet blanket, jarring him back to reality._

 _For there was no lab beyond this door. Only a hangar. No lab. No clandestine secrecy. No sacred ground. No Rachel amassed in the shadowy darkness of monitors and equipment he didn't understand. No Rachel in a world unto herself. No … man's land. For she really was gone from this earth. And on that sentiment his heart gave out and his mind went … blank._

 _He breathed through his grief and blinked with haste as he furtively glanced down each corridor of the p-way before set his fingertips upon the metal door and tilted his head forward and breathed, in and out. 'Rachel', he whispered to himself, her name traveling up from his depths. His heart bleated a distress signal … one only he could hear._

"Damn it," he muttered, closing his eyes. His lip quivered, and he fought for control of his senses, squaring his jaw.

 _"Sir, everything all right?"_ came Burk's smooth tenor, a mere echo as it floated down the passage way with his footsteps.

Tom turned to him, his throat constricted. He answered candidly, "Yes ... just thought to cut through the lab ... you see."

The young man's face softened and he pressed his lips into a thin contemplative line before he answered slowly, "Yes, Sir. Understood."

Tom could tell Burk was searching for the right words as they turned against the wall and a large group of ensigns began to pass them by – _their salutes to him along with the scuffle of their boots_ – and their purposeful energy, suddenly overpowered the somber moment along the narrow pathway.

Alone again, Tom turned and pointed to an exit. "Fresh air?" he queried.

Burk nodded in assent and the duo walked about ten paces before they stepped through an exit door onto the starboard deck. The cold evening time wind whipped up. Tom pointed to the railing in front of them – _the sun having just set_ – the sky was pink and purple and dazzling in overexposure: _a photographer's dream_. He set his hands on the cool metal railing and closed his eyes – _cleansing his lungs with the salty air_ – the panic in his heart temporarily lulled by the sound of the James as she moved swiftly on and forward.

After a long moment, he opened his eyes and turned to Burk – _privately checking on the young man as the lieutenant kindly returned the favor_ – his dark eyes wise beyond their years, having seen far too much already, were glassy and empathetic. Tom pressed his lips together and craned his neck up, appreciating the momentary reprieve from his woes as he focused on the sky above them.

Burk cleared his throat. _"For me ... it's the gym … sick bay after the oil rig …,"_ he disclosed quietly over the hum of the engines and swirl of the water far below them.

Tom's heart sank and turned back to the steadfast sailor. "Ravit ...," he breathed, pondering yet another unfathomable loss.

"Yes, Sir ...," he answered, looking away as he inhaled sharply, his eyes cast out to sea. Tom followed his gaze.

He took another cleansing breath, the salt of the earth filled his lungs. "I'm sorry we lost her ... one of the best," he breathed, his chest tight. He set his hand on Burk's shoulder and squeezed, knowing it wasn't enough … _that it would never be enough_. "We wouldn't be here if she wasn't with us ... I believe that … I hope you know that …," he offered with sincerity.

"I do," Burk nodded. "And Dr. Scott … of course …...," he replied evenly.

Tom turned to face him. "Yes, of course …," was all he found he could say.

 _For he was rendered speechless now as unruly emotion found his eyes where it lingered just as it had resided within him – for Rachel was there with him now – she was always there, reminding him from whence they came. And therein Ashley and Sam filtered through his mind too – the circumstances of their survival belonging not only to him, but to Rachel – he exhaled and shook his head. For as much as they were Darien's legacy, the tribute of their lives belonged solely to Rachel. His heart shook._

Burk turned to face Tom. "Even though you keep saying she isn't your ship ... she _is_ , Sir ... in part she always will be …," he incited.

"Where it matters most … she is …," Tom acknowledged then, his eyes pinned to that island now. "She's quite a vessel …," he breathed, swallowing the lump forming in his throat. He blinked. "I … never made it back into the lab …," he disclosed quietly then. "When I cleared my quarters out … I came over on my own for that very reason – _to step inside those walls and feel everything it ever did to me_ – but when it came down to it … I just couldn't …," he admitted, his words slow and methodical, trailed off and he lost himself.

"And you regret that now …," Burk pondered evenly.

"I do," Tom confessed, hands firm on the railing where he grounded himself. "At the time … I was conflicted, angry … _distraught_ … over her death," he went on, his heart racing in time with the James now. "And I couldn't stand inside that memorial, you know … this place where the human race was saved … such a reminder now of how it all slipped through my fingers …," he sighed; his vision became blurred and he craned his neck up, forcing his tears into recession.

" _Understandable … though, her death wasn't your fault …,"_ came Burk's smooth reply.

Tom blinked and turned back to him. "No … but I have some _'what if's'_ that play out in my head if I let them … _regrets_ … things could have been different that night …," he admitted frankly and inhaled sharply.

The young man's face softened again along with a reckoning of sorts. "I think we all have those, Sir …," he exhaled, swallowing hard. "And being back here on the James … and what we've been through here ... what she's endured and seen upon her decks – _it's all so monumental to us_ – like she's a big reminder of everything that happened ...," he shook his head. "And everyone we lost ...… being here just keeps it all front and center …," he sighed, catching his breath. He looked away, fixing his glassy eyes well beyond the horizon now.

Tom's heart pinched him in all the right places. "She is a _beautiful_ reminder though …," he declared then, his words carried out to sea. "And … _tough_ … and _smart_ … and so _strong_ … it almost hurts to be here with her …," he breathed steadily.

Burk grinned. "You're talking about more than just the James now, right …," he intuited.

Tom mused, "I suppose I am." He exhaled and leaned on his forearms, the wind and sea whipping up and against his face. "She was a remarkable woman, Rachel Scott – _an unexpected presence in my life_ – a force unto herself … as I'm sure Ravit was to you," he surmised with a weak smile.

 _Wherein he thought about how Rachel provoked him just so … and how she pushed him like no other before her … and how she forced him to confront his limitations and see beyond the horizon in front of him. Beyond the horizon … beyond even this island in front of them now._

"Yes, Sir … Ravit … she was all of that and more," Burk sighed, his eyes speaking volumes now. "I just wish I knew why it came to be that way for us … I never met anyone like Ravit – _I wanted to get off the James so badly just to be with her_ – and now we'll never have that chance …," he exhaled on his truths, shaking his head now.

Tom hesitated, but found he could offer only this because he believed it to be true, "Your paths crossed for a reason, one that will be revealed in due time … but for now, all you can do is hold onto her memory – _and believe that you were predestined to meet her, that it was written in the stars somewhere or something crazy like that_ – for how else can we explain any of this?"

Burk nodded in assent and looked toward the island, "It's an unexplained phenomenon … life … and where our paths take us."

"Yes it is _…,_ " Tom agreed, his lips pressed into a thin line.

While he privately scrutinized the lieutenant now whom once again appeared so much older and wiser than his rank. But Tom believed, war did that to people. _For this war had done that to him. Meeting Rachel had done that to him._ _Changed him at his core._ _Altered him so unequivocally._ To the point where over time it seemed that he'd become both a hero and prisoner of this war. A prisoner to monuments like his face staring back at him on a brick wall or Rachel's dossier photo plastered on page after page in his rations book – _or the finite meaning behind her missing lab here on the James_ – or as it was in Burk's case … a hallowed sick bay where he'd witnessed the great tragedy of his young lifetime.

 _And therein, all that remained in the here and now was a collection of beautiful and complex memories of chance encounters that ended up saving their lives – and changing the course of history – and their fates … and destines combined._

And there was nothing Tom as man, or Captain or the Chief of Naval Operations could do to change any of that … not now. _Not ever._ Because heroes pushed on and forward in the face of adversity. And because people of power were cunning and desperate. And desperation would always win – _Rachel was right about that too_ – for the race and the advent of the cure had truly caused panic and mass hysteria.

And therein power-hungry men and women with means battled for control all around the globe now. And sure – _they were always there, an undercurrent, a dark faction of modern society_ – but now the playing field had been leveled … and his family was in trouble. And so without looking back, he indeed found himself steering the course of the Nathan James toward ground zero again: _this time_ _Takehaya's island._

 _Where their fates and destinies would no doubt meet the unexpected – though surely none as beautiful and smart and strong – as the incomparable women they already lost. Those women whom resided in their hearts … and also on the Nathan James … in perpetuity._

 **END**


End file.
